The piano movers who manhandled the machine up to the second floor were a perfectly diverse NYC trio, as if the casting director from Star Trek also made hiring descisions for the moving company:
"The Russian", a sturdy, bald character who on the BQE (yes, I rode with them) pointed out the spot where his "ambulance" died - I really dunno, sounded sketchy.
Next up, the enormous, 6' 8" black guy from Harlem with biceps as big as my thighs (which aren't wimpy). He blared music videos from his phone and talked excitedly about a building he'd seen in Germany with 4 different colors of brick. Seems the blue brick was especially surprising.
Rounding out the crew was the "Long Islander", a world-weary character who leaned on the steering wheel like a cowboy leaning on the horn of his saddle.
When the guys saw the MM1200, Mr. Harlem said "Oh, that's a baby!". Earlier in the day the 3 of them had treaded a 7-foot grand piano up 4 narrow flights of stairs, so you can understand why a little 400 lb. box of motors and circuits looks like a piece of cake.
But for something so baby-ish, there was a lot of grunting and sweating, but once in side the building they had it up the stairs within a minute.